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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051932">of the night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/naruhoe/pseuds/naruhoe'>naruhoe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>by your side (i’ll be there) [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dishonored (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Kidnapping, M/M, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:48:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/naruhoe/pseuds/naruhoe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They come for him in the night.</p><p>(Spymaster!Daud AU)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Corvo Attano/Daud</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>by your side (i’ll be there) [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/959721</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>of the night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He fought them. Of course he fought them. They came upon him at night, grey coats and glints of gold in the fading twilight. There were… four- no, five (?) of them. Their numbers hadn’t really mattered in the end. The difference was what they brought with them.</p><p>
  <em> “What is the meaning of this-??” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Royal Spymaster. You are being arrested on charges of suspected heresy. Remain calm and do not resist-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “On whose authority?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He can tell that the overseer is smirking under his mask, and his fingers tighten on the hilt of his knife, body instinctively readying itself for action. “Brother Hartford made the recommenda-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Daud makes a dismissive sound in the back of his throat. As if he hadn’t already known it was that snake who reported him. “On. Whose. Authority??” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And here, the Abbey representative flounders for the first time since they knocked the door in. It’s Daud’s turn to curl his lips in the pantomime of a smirk. Yet it is another Overseer who steps forward to answer him, raising a hand in front of his brother. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “On the authority of the Abbey of the Everyman.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bootsteps. A fifth Overseer enters the room. Daud has only a moment to realize exactly what the man is carrying in his arms before the blasted music starts. By the time he realizes this is a battle he isn’t going to win, they’re already upon him. </em>
</p><p>They hadn’t taken him back to the Abbey, strangely enough. Daud could tell the moment that they whipped the sack off of his head. It looked like an abandoned apartment more than anything with the peeling wallpaper and the utter absence of furniture, likely all burned when the Empress, her Highness Emily Kaldwin, ordered the streets cleared of contamination. Not that it seemed to bother his hosts. They left him there with two of them to guard, one of them who was still playing that infernal tune from the music box strapped to his chest. Daud felt a great deal like retching at the discordant notes.</p><p>This wasn’t sanctioned. Daud could tell by the fact that they haven’t taken him back to the Abbey, though the muffled arguing coming from the next room was a big hint as well. </p><p>He would have smirked if his face didn’t hurt so much. If his head weren’t pounding so badly, he would have freed himself from these bonds and taken care of the fat one carrying the music box. Admittedly, he would have had an easier time of it if his shoulder weren’t dislocated, sending raw sparks of pain up and down his arm every time he so much as twitched his fingers, or perhaps if it weren't taking every inch of his concentration to keep from screaming himself hoarse at the cacophonous din of that fucking music.</p><p>Instead, he waited, trying to steady his breathing into something less jagged, though each whole breath aggravated his bruised ribs, trying to keep the nausea down, to keep from reaching for the arcane bond inside of him, though he could not feel it. The music had thoroughly sapped him of his energy, blunted his connection to the Void, and he had little concentration for the pounding in his head. Across the room, through the half-shuttered window, he could see the moonlight come through a momentary parting in the night's clouds.</p><p><em> Stay away</em>. He thought, as if it would do any good.<em> Do not come for me. </em></p><p>Bootsteps. They were coming back. Opening his eyes, Daud exhaled sharply through his nose and sat up straighter in his chair. </p><p><em> They fall upon him all at once. Daud knows himself capable of putting up an impressive fight, but with the damn music in his ears, in his </em> head<em>, he can scarcely </em> think<em>, let alone counter the attacks of no less than four different men.  </em></p><p>
  <em> He manages to keep his knife, but ducks under the attack of one man straight into the punch of another. A blow to the gut catches him off balance, and he reacts instinctively, swiveling around and driving the point of the blade through one man’s torso just as something smacks into the back of his head. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The next time he blinks, there’s blood on the carpet. Blood in his mouth. Shouting. A heavy weight on his back, and the absence of his weapon in his hand. The cacophonous sound of the music is making him tired, sluggish and nauseated, and he shakes a little, suppressing the urge to retch. The weight pressing into his shoulderblade has to be someone’s knee, he realizes. One of his arms, the left one, has been wrenched behind his back so far that his shoulder is creaking ominously. </em>
</p><p><em> “-killed Harper!! We all know who he is- </em> what <em> he is! I say we kill him now!” </em></p><p><em> “Hold your tongue, Brother Gallhager. This heretic’s fate will be decided in due course. </em> Brother Ellis <em> will be honored, just as all who have fallen in the line of duty before him, and you will know your place.” </em></p><p>
  <em> The music is still going, but Daud manages to blink the fog away from his vision, finding a masked face less than a foot away. There is an Overseer lying dead on the carpet alongside him. The man that he killed. Groaning, Daud turns his head to the other side. Through the window, he thinks he sees a bright flash of eyes, but he can’t be certain, for a moment later, with a frustrated snarl, the Overseer pressing him down into the carpet yanks back hard on Daud’s arm. The shoulder dislocates with a ‘pop’, and white hot pain erupts across his vision. He thinks that he screams.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The next time he opens his eyes, there’s a cloth obstructing his vision, his hands have been tied behind his back, and he’s being roughly escorted down what feels like a flight of stairs. Every step jars his dislocated shoulder, sending starbursts of agony off behind his eyelids like little fireworks, but the music is gone. He waits. One step. Two. Then he reaches for the power of the Void lying latent inside of him. Lashes out. Someone screams. It might be him again. The world is a blur of sounds and colors until the music starts again and something slams hard into the side of his head.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Daud goes limp. The world goes dark. He knows nothing more. When he next wakes, he is tied to a chair.</em>
</p><p>Daud was as ready for them as someone in his position could have been when the door opened and his other two captors filed into the room. One of them was distinctly limping, he noted, with self-deprecation. Even injured, he should have been able to injure at least three of these Abbey dogs.</p><p>They seemed to walk in a loose formation, and even settled into a wider spread variety of the same as they settled around him, his guard leaning against the wall where he'd stayed, the other alert, and the third pacing back and forth like a caged hound. The alert one settled in front of him, hands behind his back as he looked his captive over. With a curt nod at the music box-carrying guard, he signaled an end to the repetition of the hair-raising tones that had been steadily emanating from the box for what felt like the past hour.</p><p>Daud couldn't help but slump forward a bit in his chair in response, almost woozy at the sensation of the Void rushing back into him. Leaning to the side, he spat on the floor next to the chair, ridding his mouth of the taste of stomach bile. His captor continued to wait, silently observing. Daud curled a lip upwards in response, waited until he heard the indrawn breath of a man preparing to speak, and then interrupted him.</p><p>“Tell me.” His voice came out slightly scratchy, as sandpaper rubbed over rough wood. “What is it that you think will happen when the crown learns that a group of zealots carried out an unsanctioned attack on one of her Empress’s inner circle?”</p><p>One of them made a sound like a growl and jerked forward, though a raised hand from the one standing squarely before Daud stops him in his tracks. A leashed dog, it seemed. </p><p>
  <span>“It is the Abbey’s charge to ward against the unnatural influences of the Void, and your guilt is as clear as those marks on the back of your hand. You have no power here, heretic, and are undeserving of an explanation. Restrict your lying tongue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pacing Overseer made a derisive sound beneath his mask. “Instead of sitting around </span>
  <em>
    <span>talking </span>
  </em>
  <span>to the heretic who killed our brother, we should send the Crown a message about heretics, even heretics in the Empress’s company. I think his hand should do nicely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of a blade being drawn was unmistakable, and Daud tensed despite himself, pulling against the bonds that secured him to the chair before he forced himself to relax again. His injured shoulder throbbed in chagrin, as did his bruised ribs and the other small injuries all over his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sheathe your sword, Brother Gallhager," their leader commanded sharply. Daud found his eyes flicking to the window again, where he thought, for a moment, he'd seen the telltale flicker of something on a nearby rooftop. The moonlit rooftop now stood empty, but the wistful afterimage of someone crouched there remained in Daud's mind, as if burnt into his retinas. Gritting his teeth at the curl of dread that had seized the pit of his stomach, he forced himself to concentrate, once again, on the arguing taking place before him. Outsider's eyes, in any other situation, he would have been able to take advantage of this infighting, but against a group of Overseers, he stood as much chance at influencing them as he had becoming the Duke of Serkonos. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, concentrating hard on his tenuous connection to the Void.</span>
</p><p>Reaching for his powers revealed that the music had weakened him considerably more than he would have liked. His chance of breaking free and overpowering his captors was little to none, but he found that he could access the strings of the arcane bond that bound him to his men. Pulling those strings held the risk of alerting his captors, and he had no desire to entrap any of his men in this current situation. One against four, one of whom had a <em>fucking</em> <em>music box</em>, would surely result in capture, torture, and imprisonment. And yet, the bond ran two ways. Now that it was open again, if any of them were actively focusing on it, they would most certainly be able to feel his weakness, his emotions. They might even come for him.</p><p>But they could not. Daud would not let them.</p><p>Who, at the palace, would have cause to visit his office at this time of night, of the early morning, really? No-one. Not his men, certainly not the guardsmen posted in the halls (and if Daud did not suspect that several had been quietly paid off, he didn't deserve his job), and certainly nobody belonging to the Empress's staff. Daud did not allow himself to think of Corvo, for to do so would only have eaten away even more at his resolve. </p><p>He felt an echo of panic from the other side as he doubled down on his side of the bond. Panic. Confusion. Then... nothing. Daud exhaled harshly at the alien sensation of the slippery wall he had erected between he and his men. He was well and truly alone, and he felt... tranquil, despite the near-shouting going on around him. </p><p>"-example <em>must</em> be made!"</p><p>"And <em>I</em> say that <em>example</em> should be this heretic's head on the steps of Parliament. Who is with me, brothers??"</p><p>There was the sound of another blade being drawn. Daud opened his eyes again to stare down the length of a sword. Above it, the leering gold visage of an Overseer's mask. <em>Click</em>. That was the sound of a pistol being pointed at the sword-brandishing Overseer's head.</p><p>"Brother Gallhager, I will not tell you again. <em>Sheathe. Your. Sword</em>." </p><p>Daud observed the faintest tremble in the sword with impassive grey eyes, tilting his chin up as the tip pressed against his throat. The bob of his throat had the sword nicking him ever so slightly, drawing a bead of blood. Another '<em>click</em>', this time from behind. Daud was fairly sure that the newest weapon in this equation was also being levered at his head. In the corner, the musically-inclined Overseer shifted delicately.</p><p>He wondered if the Outsider had seen this coming. He wondered how many of that mad god's Void-touched chosen have been hunted down and condemned by the Abbey. It seemed as if he would be joining their ranks soon. Returning to the Cosmos, as the Overseers put it to, only to one day be consumed by the Void again. Daud could not help but wonder if it would be Corvo to find his ruined office, if he would straighten the torn-over bookshelves and filing cabinets or make an attempt at going through the mess of paperwork and mission reports lying on his desk.</p><p>There was a journal tucked just inside of the desk. Just a little thing, bound in red leather and stained with ink, there was a short entry for every day since the first day Daud had formally accepted the post of Royal Spymaster, back in the month of Seeds, he wondered if Corvo would find it and read the slanting lines of Daud's angular handwriting. Somewhat bitterly, Daud thought to himself that he should have had the foresight to nominate Thomas for the position of Spymaster, or at least bodyguard to the young Empress. There was so much yet to be done. </p><p>"Brother Gallhager, sheathe-"</p><p><em>BANG</em>.</p><p>And in that moment, time seemed to stand still. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been a while since I updated this series. Sorry for the long break and the small cliffhanger. Comments always make my day! Tell me your thoughts :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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